Dead God's Blessing: Chronicles of the Reaper
by V H Hellenstein
Summary: A neglected heir, a stoic Paladin and a seductive Assassin...their fate intertwines as war unfolds in Veldyia, unveiling curses and secrets far more sinister that had been plaguing the Veldanen lineage for millenniums.
1. Prologue

**Dead God's Blessing©**

**Chronicles of the Reaper©**

Drama/Adventure/Action

Author's notes: Made huge changes because I did not feel satisfied with the quality of my previous work. Everything was rushed quickly, sentences were incoherent, heaps grammatical errors, and the entire thing was 'bleh' in general. Its kind of tough getting around this writing business…

Synopsis and settings: Based in the world of Forgotten Realms, my story sets in a city that was built upon a populace of nobles that fled Neverwinter to the seas during its times of darkness while the heroes continued battling the plague. Led by an unwittingly dark individual named Abel V. Veldanen, through strange and supernatural coincidence, they stumbled upon an Island west of Neverwinter and settled there ever since. The story takes place around several decades after their landing where stranger and more sinister events have a grip upon their fair kingdom.

And as usual R&R please! It will do me well to know if my idea is well received…or not! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The fictional fantasy world of Forgotten Realms is owned by Wizard of the Coast, whereby it includes the Deities, classes, races and several events and character references to Neverwinter. The main plot, cities and most characters are by-products of a bored daydreaming dude.

**Prologue**

The cozy cobble-stoned room was where he retreated to, and within the solitude is where he found an ephemeral comfort of security and peace from his nightmarish flashbacks that maliciously robbed him of sleep, strength and will, even the chants and prayers from Sune's clergy could not do better to ease a wrecked mind.

"I grow weary, Logan," the wizened but compassionate man whispered in exhaustion. His eyes sagged with dark circles below his wrinkled eyelids. He age by the day, and strength of his former glory wanes by the hour. White strands of hair grew like weeds out of the skin of his oily scalp and the brows above his tired eyes.

"What troubles you, milord?" the sturdy bodyguard asked with head slightly bowed to conceal his pained expression.

"I grow weary of my city's fate, I grow weary of my children, I grow weary at each passing day and the days that are yet to come."

"But you should be at ease, Lord Veldanen. You have guided the kingdom towards the will of Lord Abel, your father, even more than he would ever expect. Your people, ministers and daughter are all profoundly wise and content." his personal guard reassured him while willfully holding back tears, it tore him apart seeing his liege slowly slipping away. Logan has sworn to protect his Lord, in body and soul.

"It draws to an end Logan," High Lord Markus Veldanen wheezed, "I fear the secrets…" he stopped abruptly.

"What of the secrets?"

The High Lord stared into nothingness.

"What of the secrets?" Logan repeated softly.

"Oh…nothing Logan, merely ramblings of a troubled mind," He snapped into his conscious state. "Merely ramblings of a troubled mind." He stared off into the open blue sky and over the green, tended forest. Chirps of birds and calls of tame creatures intensify the already calm and serene ambience of High Castle Valace.

Unfortunately, he can see neither of the beauty that was held before him nor feel the cool morning mist.

His hands began trembling in fear of the nightmarish flashbacks he had so frequently, everything he saw reminded him of his dreaded past. Every wood, stones and sand brought him to tears in a memory so haunting.

Soon, his legs started trembling in fatigue and turned in search for a chair. He spun around but stopped, eyeing on the only door opposite the window in the peak of the Western Turret. "Logan!" He yelled.

"Milord?" Logan unsheathed his short sword underneath his dark cloak and jumped into a defensive stance.

"The door!" the shriveled royalty screamed out at the top of his lungs, but was drowned by desperate bangs on the door and erupting tremor of the shaking earth. His band of protectors scurried from nowhere, with every available objects and furniture at hand, piling it over the entrance to hold the imminent breach, stalling their doom hopelessly.

It was too late, the only door was smashed wide opened by a strikingly powerful force that sliced the air and wailed into a sea of screams, sending wooden shrapnel, bodies of the protectors and several of their decapitated limbs across the room. A head dropped on the ground and rolled towards the feet of the High Lord, leaving red entrails of blood and veins.

Burning flashes of fire smoked the room, choking the High Lord into suffocating tears, the baking heat trickled streams of sweat down his aging skin and the entire room instantly turned to the color of brimstone red and evil.

And comes the horrific figure, the leader of the raid - dressed in battle robes of silk, steel, leather and royalty, where he stood right through the doorway…it was the face of evil, the face of a powerful yet stricken man… a man that seemed as old the High Lord himself.

The mad, agonizing picture of the intruder was instantly replaced by streams of heavily armored soldiers, storming into the house with their crossbows where they shot the High Lord Markus's remaining protectors down. Trembling with blind fear, the High Lord could only fall on his knees and silently await his fate.

Stream of tears bore down his cheeks, seeing the familiar but faceless friends pinned down by piercing bolts and soldiers' brute force. They were choking in blood and wheezing their dying breath; some tried reaching out to the High Lord but was stabbed in consequence.

"Markus…" the mad intruder finally approached like a towering shadow, his shaking hands reached out and held Veldanen's face, casting his mad eyes into the fragile man's. "6 long years…" he whispered in bitter joy, in an emotion so great yet affectionate.

"6…agonizing years!" The intruder's unpredictable emotions turned to anger, and with a hand, he gripped the head of a nearby fallen and smashed it against the wall and another, snatched an axe from his soldier and severed the fallen's neck with one clean, powerful side swing.

Blood painted the wall, and the headless body just dropped dead on the floor, its life and blood slowly leak away into the cracks of the cobble stones.

He spat on the head with disgust and flung the axe aside. The pinned guardsmen could only witness and cry, wallow and cringe in hopeless despair.

At the door stood a child, barely the age of 13, with an unnatural smile directed at Veldanen, his calm, penetrating eyes prompted curiosity and excitement.

Veldanen looked to his left and caught a glimpse his father, pinned to the ground and face on the floor, struggling to breathe from the pool of his own blood. The High Lord wanted to reach out for him, but was crippled by fear.

His head was held by a sticky, bloody hand. "My son," the mad intruder looked him in the eyes.

_My son? _Confusion played in the High Lord's mind and could not think in logic as he was too stunned at the sight of the blood, horror and insanity that scribed on the intruder that claimed Veldanen as his son.

"At long last Markus! My son!" the intruder exclaimed in a booming voice. "Let there be a union for the father of two," the wild eyed man placed both hands on Veldanen's shoulder excitedly. "…and the two together and to their father.

Fear not, Markus." His father hugged him close, "Know my name, and know that I am your real father… I am Abel Veldanen the Sixth. And these around you," he gestured to the dead soldiers lying around, "These people are rebels, scum…demons that took you away from my arms when you were small, claiming you their own."

Fear not Markus, for you are with your family once more..." The mad intruder and released him to the child by the door.

Abel's words and warmth exuded the qualities of a parent and authority that somehow got Markus weakly on his feet and stumbled across the room to his brother. Standing taller than Markus, Horatio placed his hand on Markus' head and smiled affectionately. "Welcome back brother, long have you been absent." Horatio said, "And as promised by father, your absence has caused us 6 years of grief that could only be remedied with 6 years worth of punishment." Horatio's eyes playfully shifted towards the fallen men on the ground, especially the man that Markus once knew as father.

Abel walked by and took High Lord Veldanen by the hand, and placed another on Horatio, his lips etched an evil smile.

Logan's calm voice became more audible as the red room slowly de-saturated into a balance of warmth and white. The air seemed to be void of smoke and was replaced with fresh air. The conscious state of Markus was slowly returned by Logan's constant care and patient calling.

"Milord…" Logan sounded even more disheartened when Lord Veldanen's eyes returned its sanity and consciousness. The High Lord was suffering another tragic nightmare of his past.

"I saw it again Logan," the Lord huffed.

"What did you see, Milord?" Logan asked as he had for the hundredth time.

"I saw the end of my sanity…"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chronicles of the Reaper: Chapter 1**

It was an uneventful summer that welcomed the season of a peaceful, quiet fall; birds of various species stretched their wings in preparation for the annual mass exodus down south to escape the coming cold winter. Branches of trees held close to the shoulders of the moving eastern air, letting their leaves slide and drifted along to the rushing wind though the hollow stumps and into the open air. Packs of wild bears were seen more frequently alongside the rivers in anticipation of the vast quantities of fish journeying upstream. The untouched Northern wilderness moved and swayed in unison and gently to the slow inevitable seasonal change.

For Halifaz, it was a new beginning of a new chapter. Though he never really enjoyed the grey mood of autumn, a certain favorable event changed his disposition towards the season, or rather, that favorable event managed to keep him distracted from his seasonal peevishness.

Brown, wavy short haired with crescent eyes, the freckled young man has recently acquired a newfound achievement to brag about to his peers and clique. The dreamy lad had become the carriage driver for the Wilkinsbane family, shortly after the former coachman, in a drunken stupor, attempted to sexually assault the young lady of the family.

He would never endeavor to mistreat Lady Velayn, he concluded, although admittedly, he had certain fantasies of his own and that was about as far as he gets.

Working for a ministerial family has certainly has changed Halifaz's reputation, lifestyle and the prospects for his future. In Veldyia, such highly regarded opportunities do not come by often. The driver of the carriage must be presentable, punctual and able to handle the horse well under strenuous weather. Save for being presentable, the country boy was well suited for the job.

As a man, he was already too old to be conscripted as a page for the kingdom, nor did he have the charms, good looks or attitude to wholehearted adopt the teachings of Sune's Clergy. The arduous studies of sorcery too, was not his destiny to pursue, he lacked the necessary talent and will. He blamed his freckles, he blamed his commoner parents, he blamed his intellect, and indirectly, the ambitious young man blamed his kingdom for his sorry state.

It was not until his mother managed to pull some strings within her network of housewives and domestic servants, and the day finally arrived when he packed his belongings in the lonely, isolated farms west of Veldyia City, and moved to the promise of his parents. With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, he would find a new life within the vast economic structure of the city, climb the social ladder and provide better lives for his siblings and generations that are yet to come.

Autumn had not sullied his mood thus far; on the contrary, driving along the yellowing forest brought him into a poetic mood. The trip to High Castle Valace was the defining moment since he started working for the family. Never before had he laid eyes on the strikingly beautiful Castle of royalty, or be treated like one. Situated on a climbing, green-covered mountain, and by a large blue lake that shimmers like a field of diamonds under the midday's sun, the ornate, spiraling turret, walls, chambers and halls, in all of its magnificent glory brought tears to him.

Being ever so hopeful, he wanted to lay eyes on the High Lord himself, but to his utter disappointment, the High Lord could not participate in the monthly reception for the Wilkinsbane family. Nevertheless, he was awestruck by the level of generosity of their host. Feast, music and exotic dancers entertained the family and the entourage of guards and servants until late night.

Being there made him aware of the endless possibilities.

* * *

Velayn, with her family, sat quietly in the carriage while her bored eyes scanned the familiar forest on the side of the all too familiar path. Once again, the High Lord remained within his chambers, of what condition or intent, no one knew. In her head, she silently began to question whether these monthly trips were necessary at all; the routine was becoming redundant, tiresome without yield or purpose. 

The High Lord does not seem to care anymore.

The visit was defined by the fiery performance by muscular, tribal brown skinned fire dancers from Chult. For that, she did not regard the trip as a complete waste of time, but she did for the entire long and boring journey. She leaned her elbow gently on the window and spied on her sleeping parents and giggled at the saliva that is leaking out from the corner of her father's lips, wetting his dense, well trimmed beard. She leaned over with a handkerchief to wipe it off but cheekily decided not to. She smiled adoringly at her father.

* * *

Sir Lex Remington rode casually at the head of the entourage, his brunette hair fluttered wildly in the gust of wind, unfazed, his job was to lead the entourage as well his two squires that was securing the rear end the carriage. The young paladin had been service to the family for well over two years, shortly after his siring; he was quickly made the guard captain of the family. It came to no surprise, as few have been so fortunate due to the strict restraint of the Order's hierarchical structure. Sir Lex was, however, different from the others, even when he was squire, he displayed unusual bravado and valor. 

During a cold winter night, grasping a mace longer than his arm, without fear or hesitation in his eyes, the young lad with all strength and courage, smashed an ambushing pack of ravenous wolves during a mock patrol exercise with several other helpless squires. When the wolves lay dead by his feet and his own blood trickled down his head, in the eyes of many, he instantly became a legend.

However, Sir Lex remained an enigma to his colleagues and the people that surrounded him, seldom he spoke of ambition, love or life. It was probably the discipline and duty instilled to him by his father and training, people guessed. But years have past and in everybody's mind, he is still known to be the fierce, vigilant, wounded lad. Wordlessly, he inspired security and valor.

The Wilkinsbane could not be any happier when he was sent to replace the old craggy Guard Captain, especially to the heart of young maidens. The maid and servant girls were wrought with excitement when the legend stepped through the gates; his heavy plate mail carried his broad shoulders across the courtyard with grace and medieval heroism. His sharp defined face and calm eyes would place any girl before his feet, but he shunned them away, closed his heart and his voice remained quieter still.

Two years have passed and he remains an enigma.

He approached the usual set of trees where, one in particular, dwarfed the rest with its massive trunk and crawling branches that seemed to touch the skies. It naturally marked the mid-way point of the Northern Pass to Vetropol City and usually is a sight for relief.

Not this time.

The white horse that carried the young Paladin neighed in restlessness as they approached closer to the tree; the wide splitting branches dipped so low it almost touched the earth, blocking their path and as if it has lost its will to live. The crawling web of blackened branches reached out like the skeletal hands of the crawling dead, the sight disturbed even his brave heart.

He stopped the entourage immediately, jumped off from his mount and unsheathed a sword from his saddle. He dutifully but cautiously moved closer to the branches and chopped them in one single strike.

But another evil surprised him, instead of the crackling sound of snapping braches; his strike only echoed a soft thud and ruffles of darkening leaves, emitting a putrid stench. Maggots and worms leached themselves onto his sword and many more dropped off to the ground and scurried away. The dark, gruesome ominous signs moved him to drop his sword and backed away.

"Is there something amiss Sir Lex?" Halifaz howled from the edge of the carriage. Velayn, in response, poked her head out to examine the commotion. One of the rear guard moved to the front.

Sir Lex studied the tree grimly, unmoving. The trees around seemed to be withering as the bark started to rot and fall off. "By Sune's name…" the female squire gasped at the grisly sight. The woods further beyond the hulking tree seemed to be covered in an unnatural hue of purple and black. "What caused this devilry?"

"A dying forest," Sir Lex breathed to himself, intrigued. "I'm going to investigate further, something lurks in the forest." He turned to his disturbed squire, "Elweena, stay with the family and make them safe."

"Be careful sir," she nodded and scurried off to the carriage.

For Sir Lex, investigating strange occurrences was his second nature. But this 'devilry' as Elweena suggested, almost had Sir Lex thinking twice before stepping into the alien realm. He spoke a prayer and lifted his leg towards the bed of decaying leaves.

His first step had his left leg sunk sickly into a bloating bed of decaying leaves, crushing their crusty shells that spewed out murky liquids. Unfazed, he continued marching forward into the dark forest with his mace in hand. In his mind, he thought it was foolish to attempt such evil alone, but his duty told him otherwise.

The large expanse of the forest was deserted with occasional echoes of caws and squishing sounds set by his feet. The deeper part of the forest was darkening by the dense black-purplish canopy webbed together by closely clustered trees. Soon, it became exceedingly difficult for him to search the light whence he came from. As he progressed, the forest became much deader and ominous, dead veins hung down like a noose, damp rotting branches broke off and fell from trees, the air became much thinner and it became even harder to breathe. Every step he took wet the earth, turning the once green forest more into a lumpy swamp.

For once, he can feel a sickening fear crawling at the back of his head as he trod in the endless dead forest. The darkness was becoming too unbearable and his lungs were crying out for air. Reaching out his left hand, he chanted a string of words to create a ball of white light. He moved his hand over his mace, and illuminated the head of the mace in brightness.

Holding out the make shift torch, the light shone forward and saw no end, only what seems to be a chain of illusions. He decided that it was hopeless to go further, he did not know what he was searching for and vowed to report these unusual findings to the Inquisition as soon as he returned. But as he turned around, the entire path turned pitch black, as if he were staring into a void of nothingness. Even his enchanted light could not penetrate the choking blackness that was starting to gnaw on his courage.

He turned towards his original destination and eerily found that it was not as dark as the path behind. He paused for a second in contemplation before he smiled to himself, now even more certain that the truth lays forward, his conscience and valor rested easier and secretly thanked the darkness for swaying his cowardly decisions.

To none of his surprise, the path became brighter as he progressed with courage. Not long, he saw a white glimmer shining through the purple ambience between the trees. Lowering his mace, he quickened his pace forward to uncover the truth.

Author's notes: R&R Please!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chronicles of the Reaper – Chapter 2**

Sir Lex's heart beat faster as he dawned upon the immense disparity of nature, he stood in darkness and only inches apart from the luminous stream of light under the balding branches above, the small opening formed a perfect circle that invited a barrier of light on to that bare, open ground where no other parts of the dead-forest has.

Sir Lex was sure this is what he was looking for.

The opaque stream glowed so strongly, it almost seemed like it was a smooth fall of frothy milk, pouring in from the edges of the trees. Yet it was still, unmoving and radiated piousness and subtle emotions. Encircling the barrier were small illuminating specks of light that ascended gracefully towards the heavens.

He could scarcely believe the powerful serenity that was engulfing his soul, and the comforting caresses of warmth and peace upon his skin and mind. The surreal emotion of heaven was how he wanted to describe it, the never ending pleasures of tenderness and the relaxation of the psyche.

_Are my eyes cheated?_ He disbelievingly moved forward in transition to a seemingly different realm. A tearing conscience was begging him to go further and the other to step away, but unknowingly, like a moth to fire, he dipped his hands into the thick, warm barrier, receiving a million pleasurable points upon his entire body and nerves, like submerging the body into thick, warm milk, like the climaxing pleasure of love making, like a gentle message over aching shoulders, like tasting sweet water over a parching throat, like the first kiss on true love, like the euphoric sensation of success. Sir Lex, while eyelids closed, experienced the pleasures of the world in that one instance before the barrier burst with a powerful, yet gentle force that rushed through the entire forest.

Sir Lex was once again feeling the rushing warmth throughout his body and soul until it started slowing down and settled. He opened his eyes and saw the comforting light has returned to its natural state. The swelling purple leaves were no more, leaving only a rain of drifting yellow leaves and bare-naked dead trees standing under the midday's sun.

He turned to the where the large barrier was and in the centre of it was something more unprecedented, the body of a man. His Paladin nature instinctively moved him to assist the unconscious stranger. Taking big leaps, he knelt beside him before removing his gauntlets to rest the man's body on his thigh, He checked his pulse, injuries or any unusual symptoms, but he turned out to be fine.

Judging from the depressed bed of yellow leaves, Sir Lex deduced that the man had been lying there for awhile.

Suddenly he heard a distant clamor and reflexively lifted his mace and rested the man into his original position. Somewhere in forest were steady crushing noises and quick soggy steps seem to move across the swampy bed towards his direction, he knelt before the man in waiting as the echoes of the footstep grew shorter. Listening to the speed and sound, it seemed to be two sets of legs that are running at a constant speed, it could be a wild beast, or has the light drawn demons to his location? Thinking further, it suddenly struck him, he straightened his knee, stood and turned to the source of the sound, he winced irritably at his accurate deduction.

"Miss Velayn, please return to the carriage!" Sir Lex yelled at the running girl. Personally, he found the young lady's brashness and curiosity quite unbearable. Seeing the petite but brave maiden lifted her dress while running across the wet, soggy earth unflinchingly garroted him with bile in his throat. Elweena was catching up from behind, but unlike the former, she was rather perturbed by the grotesque environment she got pulled in to.

With excitement etched on her face, she ran up beside Sir Lex while wiping strands of hair from her sticky forehead. Her dark, rich chestnut curls were casually pulled back and tied into a ponytail, letting few strands of hair dangle friskily over her even, fair cheeks.

"Sir Lex, are you alright?" she laid her hands over his arms in support. "We…saw a blinding white light and…came as soon as we can," she gasped after the tiresome run, she was altogether in an emotional mix of intrigue and worry.

"Miss Velayn, countless times I've advised you not to act on your own whims," there was a trace of anger in that serious character's voice. "Have you no fear for your life?"

"Oh Lex, stop being such a worry wart," she brushed him off with a wink disarmingly. "What happened? Who is this man? Is he dead?" she had countless question in her head, but what intrigued her most was the man laying flat on the ground, and leaned closer for further inspection.

"Sire…" Elweena finally arrived beside Sir Lex, only to receive a reprimanding glare. "I told you keep them safe, squire."

"I tried sire! But her will was too great, please believe me sire, I tried…!" Elweena pleaded for innocence, but Sir Lex knew better of Velayn. Two years in service, the impetuous attitude of Velayn was everything Sir Lex wished against for in a woman. To him, she was naturally disruptive to his works and orderliness, and her blunt impromptu actions had an effect of forcing him to stray out of his detailed escort plans. He had wished her to behave more ladylike and obedient so he could carry his duty as he wished.

"Lady Velayn, I would have you follow Elweena to the carriage and await my arrival," he tried for the final time, alas, it only fell upon deaf ears as she heard that line once too many. "That clothes…" she studied, "he does not appear to be a commoner of any sort." She squatted beside the rugged man. "Unshaven and deathly pale, but still breathing." She took a whiff. "…and not a drunkard, I can tell you that." She bit her own lip while giggling to herself.

"Was he the cause of that darkness?" she asked Sir Lex while fixing her eyes on the man.

"I don't know," He shrugged and answered stoically to mask his upset mood.

"What was the flash of light then? Did you dispel the darkness with your strength?" Elweena asked with a hopeful awe towards her legendary sire.

"No, there was a barrier of light where we stand." He motioned with a protruding finger. "The stream of light dissipated the moment I touched it, and so did the darkness."

"How very odd," Elweena replied with a slight disappointment, she had always waited to witness his Sire's heroic deeds in person as her fellow squires often clung onto her to brag tales and adventure with the dashing Paladin, but time and again she let them down with trivial stories, jaded philosophies and idle hearsay.

"Elweena, return to the carriage and be with the Lord Wilkinsbane. You have left them unguarded long enough." Sir Lex sternly ordered the youngling.

"My apologies sire!" she placed her hand over her breast in salutation and ran off, slightly anxious of her standing in Sir Lex's eyes. Seeing her off, he then shifted his eyes over to the unconscious man that was wrapped gently in his dark tattered clothes; his expression did not show pain or struggle, but a calm, quiet sensation. His lips were passive and his features were as he was in a deep meditation.

_Survived in a cursed forest within a barrier that exuded divinity?_ His mind was unraveling of the possibilities of the identity of this stranger. _What was the feeling that surged through my body? What caused all this chaos?_

_Who is this man? _

At the moment, everything seemed beyond his comprehension, but he knew the answer lies within that man, for good or evil.

"We won't be leaving him here right?" Velayn looked at Sir Lex expectantly.

"We shan't, he will come with us." He said simply and moved forward to collect his gauntlets and mace, strapping them into their rightful places before lifting the sizeable man with both hands. A sweet, natural smell emitted from his body that caught him off guard, the mystery thickens and he became even more restless. He balanced the rather heavy man before stepping forward carefully. Shortly, after gaining some momentum he increased his pace.

"What are your thoughts Lex?" Velayn asked him casually from behind.

As he walked, he silently gathered and worked his thoughts to draw closer to a logical conclusion before giving a satisfactory answer.

"Well?" the young lady was getting impatient at the man's shielded mind.

"Give me a moment to think, please." Sir Lex, too became impatient at her impulsiveness.

She stopped at her tracks, pouting at his slightly offensive tone, and decided to give some time to that blockhead.

And she waited until they got back to the Northern Pass.

"Well, Sir Lex?" She pressed the silent, enigmatic Paladin. "Well what?" Her half-asleep father walked forward to quiz the strange occurrences from Sir Lex himself, seemingly quite perplexed at the sight of the unconscious man.

"It is still a mystery to me, Lord Wilkinsbane." He paused to resign further in thought; with the man in arms he motioned his other squire, Y'zin, to open the door of the carriage. "I found this man within the forest, and we will deliver him to the city."

"Wait just right there!" Lord Wilkinsbane stepped forward in protest while Sir Lex started to load the man into the carriage with the help of Y'zin. "This is unheard of! You cannot simply pick a foreigner off the road and shove it into my carriage!" the heavy man flustered angrily, eyes darting disgustingly at the man. "And not a single ounce of courtesy and consideration paid to the carriage's owner!"

"Dad! The man is sick for Sune's sake!" Velayn rushed in to reason with her father. "We can't just leave him out here to die…"

Taken aback slightly, he decided to question further to assess the problem. "Wha… who is this man? And what just happened in there?" he looked Sir Lex in the eye. "Tell me everything!"

"I cannot discern his identity at the moment, and neither have I found the link between these strange occurrences. This man seemed to be protected by a divine barrier from the grapple of an evil that lurks within this forest." He pointed towards uncomfortably towards the woods. "And whatever the truth is, only this man knows."

Still unsatisfied of the situation, Lord Wilkinsbane steadfastly weighed the facts and possibilities given. "Could he be the evil that is driving this…devilry?" He hated to use such a word in the presence of the stranger, and in the middle of a freak incident. "What happens if he awakes and slays us all?"

Velayn wanted to say something in defense but paused at her father's logic and her mother was feeling just as tense at the unraveling conflict. Finding credible reasons in his own words, Lord Wilkinsbane continues painting the picture with other possibilities. "This man might be a fugitive, or a murderer or a carrier of some disease! He could be the very same cultists that slew nearly two dozen youngsters a decade ago!"

"Lord Wilkinsbane, situations as grave as this demands explanations, and I have none." Sir Lex calmly replied. "The cathedral will not accept such negligence."

"Have it done it on your accord then, gather the Inquisition as soon as we return! My family should not be in any harm's way!" the Trade Minister was at the peak of his anger.

"Lord Wilkinsbane," Sir Lex's stern gaze and words penetrated his superior's heart. "There is nothing here I can say to ease any of our suspicions, however vague it may be something did happen in that forest. Now, I can decide to ignore it." He held his ground with conviction, "…or I can determine the end of it, and I can assure you that there are no easier paths I can choose. In that forest moments ago…" he pointed deeper into the forest. "I've witness evil as well as a miracle that has rid the looming darkness.

Evil was at work here Lord Wilkinsbane; I cannot choose to ignore my duties as a servant of the Goddess." Sir Lex breathes evenly. "I'm sorry Lord Wilkinsbane, there is no other way."

Lord Wilkinsbane stared at Sir Lex with a cold hard expression and turned to look at his shrugging wife and daughter, there was nothing more to say to words like duties, God and shining morality. "Get on with it then!" he waved impatiently at everybody.

Sir Lex nodded and instructed his younger associate to bind the stranger's arms.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chronicles of the Reaper: Chapter 3**

The dirt path, no wider than the size of three carriages placed side by side, ended at a signpost that marked the final quarter of the journey. The route onwards to Vetropol City was laid with White Mountain bricks, and the early autumn decorated the path with raining, pink plum blossoms and flowers of different hues and colors. The sunlight on that cloudy day reflected on the petals that lightened entire path in calm ethereal pink, perfecting the journey and experience towards a city built on majestic beauty and divine love. Beyond was the impressive outline of the magnificent capital city of Veldyia, where a stream of light burst through the grey midday's cloud and gloriously illuminating the tower of Sune's Cathedral.

Vetropol city was the central pride for all Velydians, and the whole city was constructed upon the banks of a wide, calm river that ran from north-west to the south-eastern beach. Situated at the heart of Southern Haven, the city's reputable and impressive growth has all of Faerun's notice. Many have already migrated to the promise of peace and prosperity.

Surrounded by defensive walls, the city was altogether well planned and functional. The roads and buildings were well placed as to maximize the productivity, flow and efficiency of everyday activity and economy. The vigilant governance of ministers had also ensured its people lead a wealthy, happy and comfortable life, beggars and slums were almost non-existent, people were happy and content, sophisticated and learned, and lifestyles were festive, carefree and laidback.

The city guard, military and knighthood to the Lords of Veldyia were under the faith and order of the Holy Cathedral. Worshipping Sune as the main deity, Sharess as the lesser, the multi-functional Paladins are refined, uncorrupt and peaceful. They were loyal, strong and religious.

The city was overseen and governed by five ministries, the Ministry of Trade, City Development, Religion, Arts and Education, and Defense, the appointed ministers are Ozmattix Wilkinsbane, Nuzhanne Kilvadur, Sulir'ra Kylaz, Helindryl Jwy'snatava, and Horatio Veldanen, the second born child to the founder of Veldyia. They were appointed according strictly to their abilities with minimal political influence, and were handpicked by the first founder of Veldyia – High Lord Abel VI. Veldanen.

Many civilizations and powers were astounded and puzzled as how was it that the Veldyia kingdom could expand from a mere sea village into a kingdom of six cities in just a short period of fifty years. It also has become no less of a sovereign kingdom with the blessings of huge amount of natural resources comprising of wood, ore, animals, fresh water and jewels.

The command and governance of Veldyia too, holds equal in their ability to efficiently manage their limited physical and mental resources. Learned men and women, bureaucrats, and scholars with their advance philosophical beliefs and education, managed to mold most of the refugees into a peaceful, rational and loving people, and cultivating the land into a robust, moving economy.

However, like a rose, red and beautiful, thorns and natural engines of destruction will seek to isolate or annihilate the seemingly utopian, beautiful land, jealousy and greed are part of a greater prime, fundamental hate that exist to oppose the further construction and development of the kingdom. During Veldyia's course of history, there were many foiled, desperate attempts of invasions and religious attacks to secure a piece of heaven. But these years of warmongering were gone; most cities have reduced the level of security and begun minor reformations to expand and grow economically. Normal lives and trade were resumed as normal. To the people, they were content, secure and happy with the present's just and benevolent kingship.

Ozmattix still could not believe he had been talked into this absurdity, to use his carriage as a hearse was insulting and derogatory to a person his stature. Even by looking at the half-dead lad, he held onto his carriage close in paranoia. He grimaced in resentment and annoyance.

"The carriage was a gift from the dwarves of Mithral Hall! The intricate carvings on the wheels, cushions and workmanship." He grumbled to himself. "Of all the coaches I had to choose for the trip!"

"Oh dad…" Velayn looked on hopelessly to soothe his father's heart. "You've done a great deed today!"

"There's nothing greater than soiling my prized carriage." He grumbled still.

"Oh I had enough Oz…it's just a carriage! Stop sulking like a child." The slender wife was obviously irritated by his long-windedness. "That poor man obviously needed help, you're just angry because our young captain acted more like a man than you had." She scolded with a frown on her wrinkled brow.

"He acted like a man?" Shock overridden his face. "I was acting like a father and husband for Sune's sake! I can't believe you've forgotten the weight of responsibility I have as the man of the house!"

"Oh, be quiet Oz, I know you and your prideful ways above all else!" Lady Wilkinsbane rebutted. "…and it's not like you've actually cared for us anyway." She whispered in sobs and painful reverie, a statement that invoked personal issues that is known only to both of them. Velayn sat quietly through their continued bickering that ended in cold silence. Her mom wiped her misty eyes but remained steadfast and willful, her father, on the other hand, stroked his bearded chin in frustration. "What a trip this turned out to be," he muttered under his breath.

Velayn looked over to her right and secretly admired the calm, uncaring stranger that slept soundly under the weight of the world. Seeing his head lolled in an uncomfortable angle against the side panel of the carriage, she removed a pillow below her seat and carefully climbed over his body to rest his head proper. She then cleared and tucked his wavy black bangs behind his ear, revealing his fierce eyebrows and deep set of eyes. She playfully wanted to shave his beard and moustache there and then to reveal his true facial features.

Her heart ached when she saw his wrists were scraped in red by the rigid binds and wondered if he deserved such suspicions. He had a boyish, innocent helplessness and charm that exuded from his limp posture and built coupled with the exotic facial features mix of human and elven blood.

_He ages the same as me, _she guessed.

"Will he be handed over to the Cathedral?" she finally broke the ice.

"Ask you're the beloved Guard Captain, he holds the reins in this matter." Lord Wilkinsbane shot back with anger and cynicism that hurtfully silenced Velayn. Seeing the pained and sunken expressions of her daughter, the wife gave a painful nudge to her husband, jolting the large man. Frowning, an angry glare pierced through the minister's heart, melting away the rage with resounding guilt and shame. Wavering, he mumbled to cheer her daughter up, "…which I think he should, considering he might be injured or hurt."

Getting a quizzical glance from his saddened daughter, he choked, "Taking him to the Cathedral, I mean."

But Velayn had other ideas, seeing her father in a forgiving and pleading mood, she sulked still while looking out the window.

"Oh darling," her mother breathed in sympathy, "Don't mind your father, he's just being in his usual grumpy self." And a wrinkled bony palm slapped the Minister's arm. The minister nodded along pleadingly, experiencing his darling daughter's cold reception was enough to scrape his prideful heart.

"What's on your mind Ve?" the father called out to her with an affectionate acronym, and immediately a cheeky smile carved behind her pouty lips.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chronicles of the Reaper - Chapter 4**

On top of the carved rocky hill, central of the City of Vetropol and on the east Bank of the dividing river, was a large distinguished white structure that was marked as the Ministerial Office. Tall Corinthian columns held the two-story high building that sparkled power and order, the large garden laid out at the courtyard deceptively mask the powerful preeminence of the authorities' administrative reach of the city and beyond.

"It seems our cherished trade minister's safely returned," the bearded elder in black, ornate plate mail said. Anyone would be able to recognize the outstanding carriage from his perch, he stood with his trusty spyglass in hand, by the Northern window of his functional but lackluster office. By his side was shadowy sharp-looking lad that bears a constant smirk on his clean-shaven face. A battle-scar bore down vertically over his left eye from the temple across to his cheek. Sleek black leather with shades of red, wrapped his dangerous, dexterous posture tightly to paint him unmistakably as a ruthless character. "Something bothers you milord?" He asked with brimming confidence and a sarcastic tone, it was all in his cheeky character to size up his liege's weakness whenever possible.

"Yes," the older man said calmly. "Your uncanny abilities to judge my emotions, distresses me." He reprimanded sternly without hesitation, he knew from his wealth of experience that a wild, young man like Xi has the potential to spell trouble if allowed free to flaunt his overbearing arrogance and confidence.

"I would regard that as my finer traits, milord." Xi bowed his head low untroubled and calm, brushing softly against his shortly cut hair, and toyed his thin braided pony tail that slid over his shoulder. "After all, I remain by your side still."

The fierce, gruff man stayed silent for a brief moment. "It's been too quiet recently," the elder leaned his arm against the window sill, looking outward and frowning slightly at the recent inaction.

"The Night agency has done well, I would hope." Xi smiled with a deep, prideful arrogance, a statement that did not please his liege at all.

"A pity, Xi." the man said cynically, deciding to whip that wild cat into his own place, "…have you ever wondered why a talented young man as yourself could only get this far?" he bluntly directed a rhetorical question at that ambitious young man.

Xi frowned at that remark, half-expectantly aware of his liege's next words. "Ah…ego," the man immediately seized the young lad's emotions and met the eyes of his personal, Bishop ranked Night Agent. "…and arrogance. I do remember now why I placed you here instead of Ca…"

"Lord Horatio," Xi brushed off the Defense Minister's mind games and intimidations, "I have my due worth, and I do remember too, why you've placed me here by your side." He stared into his Lord's eyes slightly offended, slightly snarling.

Horatio I Veldanen suppressed a wicked smile, knowing the cat was slowly conditioned to play by his rules. He turned to view upon his city. "We'd have to step up our game, Xi, something foul brews in the air…"

* * *

At the Eastern Gate, Gerald, a freshly initiated Third Circle Paladin stood vigilantly by the gates, dressed in a standard pearl-white plate mail, his rank identifiable through a purple Coat of Arms on his right shoulder. 

While filled with duty and passion, his dreamy eyes hidden darkly behind his horse hair helmet reflected the memories within The Virtuous Hall of Castle Valace., where its calm, opulent construct seemed to glow with piousness and ivies crawled all over tapestries and grand column like a maiden's caress. As a custom, he was required to be present before the High Lord Veldanen, receiving his Knighthood. It was his defining moment when Lord Veldanen recited the words of service and tapped the ceremonial sword on his shoulder that made him into a man of the Kingdom's strength and the Cathedral's love.

From a page to the siring of a knight, the strenuous path of knighthood has molded many to vigor, discipline and focus in times of pressure or routine. All knights and paladins had undergone a strict selection and a series of test in faith. From the becoming of a page, to the arduous trainings in combat and devotion, the undetermined and weak will naturally fall out, leaving only the strongest, fittest and the wisest.

One of his brothers in arms, however, was a rare breed. Darwio, with a fantastical illusion of promise and fantasy, dreamt of Paladin's life as one being full of adventure, glory and charm that draws women, like moths to fire. Remarkably, the promise was more than enough to keep him alive and motivated through the entire process of Knighthood, until reality came.

"I'm bored," he yawned tiredly. Darwio had never expected such mundane task after his siring, the days in the Cathedral as a squire was much more exciting. Although assigned to a post of significant importance, he felt otherwise.

Gerald simply looked ahead, focused on his present duties.

"You're bored, I can tell," Darwio looked at Gerald gingerly with tired eyes. "Very well! Let me tell you about my encounter yester eve, when I walked past this… beautiful young lass." He smiled to himself. "She flashed her shy smile at me! She professed her interest to me! She had these fair blonde locks that ties into a ponytail…" he described animatedly with his hands. "Incredibly innocent charm, a virgin too I hope and pray in Sune's name." he placed his hand over his heart in silent prayer. "I tell you Gerald, that lass is everything I've ever wished for in a girl."

Gerald coughed in irritation and spoke as inaudible as possible, "That's what you told me last week about Ul'lyra the Vivacious."

"Did I?" Darwio wondered. "Maybe, but you see what the problem is? An elf…" he glanced at Gerald. "…has an insane longevity in life, and we as humans barely live to the age of 100! We all be wrinkled old prunes while the elves remain young and youthful, not that it's bad thing, but…"

Cutting Darwio off, the younger associate pointed out. "Let's talk about this later. It seems we have a visitor." He straightened his pose and preparing mentally to serve with full anticipation and spirit. His head started rehearsing the list of procedure they had to run through for each visitor.

The approaching athletic figure paced forward with small, feminine steps, swaying her hips gently with an aristocratic flair. She was shrouded in a lavishly designed white silk hood and a long flowing amber red cloak that swept the ground, the bricks she walked upon echoed sharp clicks. With a perfect straight posture, she swirled gracefully towards the east where the Emerald Port lie, the carriage she rode upon slowly vanished behind the trees at the corner of the path. She then took a minute to admire the spiraling tower of Sune that was placed along the same direction of the Eastern Gates. Reaching her hands into her cowl, she tucked her hair behind her neck, before she breathed with anticipation, picked up her large leather case and started walking slowly towards the guardsmen.

"Good morning, milady," Darwio greeted unenthusiastically, expecting a crazy pilgrim or some poor old woman. "What business do you have with Vetropol City?" His head still swims with his views on Human-Elf relationships.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she greeted with a worldly enthralling voice that immediately caught Darwio's attention. "My affair…" she pulled down her cowl, revealing her pale and straight golden hair that brushed her shoulder. "…is one being matters of private." She purred in a harmonic, sweetly seductive tone, baiting Darwio and drawing him closer with her sweet arousing scent that snaked playfully into his nostrils. Gerald, while clutching onto his list of procedures, felt tense and rather shy around her unprecedented presence. He was not used being in authority, nor around girls of exceptional beauty.

"I would have to see your…uh…I'm sorry, can I have your name please?" Gerald fumbled. It was his first encounter with a lady of such profound elegance, although many have passed through the gates, they often ride in carriages and are too proud to neither speak nor show their precious visage.

The fair lady arched an eyebrow in amusement in respond to Gerald's question, "Long have I heard the roads to Vetropol City are set in grace, and the bells of Sune chimes in articulacy. Men…" she licked her lips while studying the younger Paladin carefully. "…alike respectful and refined. But such unpolished and ill-mannered welcome…I'm beginning to think I've set my foot by the wrong gates!" She smiled teasingly.

"I'm sorry madam…I mean miss…" Gerald could feel himself blushing with awkwardness. Darwio, regaining his senses, scratched the back of his helm in nervousness, "I beg your pardon milady, but such unearthly presence of beauty would leave anyone of their usual habits." He focused with all his might to pick the best flattering words, lest he be haunted by such enchanting encounter. "I apologize for our rudeness."

"Ah, that's more like it," she purred with a sultry smile. "such honeyed, eloquent speech, I might very well find myself at home after all." She set her sly, cat-like eyes on Darwio's and winked at him. "Now, the two kind Guardsmen won't allow a weary wayfaring lady to stand so eager beyond the Vetropol's gates, would they?"

Gerald immediately stepped forward to offer carrying her large case upon the panicky orders of Darwio, and the latter went to the gates to unlatch the personal access door.

"Thank you gentlemen, it was a pleasure." She smiled with her lightly shaded pink lips. "I wish our charming meeting is but the beginning of a wondrous journey."

Both guards smiled toothily at the wanderer's grace. "Milady, before you leave," Darwio bowed. "Could I be so bold to learn your name?"

"Certainly," she announced before stepping through the door, "Angel, Angel Jil'znha."

"Jil'znha?" Both men gasped at the name that reputedly saved Neverwinter.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chronicles of the Reaper - Chapter 5**

The man was blinded and was beginning to regain his composure within the darkness of his dark hood, and the soft piercing light and the ruffling sounds of leaves hinted him of the wilderness. For the longest time, he was forced to walk through rain, sun and the humidity. He felt disgusted and sick to be dragged around like a beast by his stealthy abductors, now he could barely stand from his weak, frightened knees. He gave up trying to fight back.

He knew what these people are capable of, but he was not ready to betray his employers.

With a yank, his bounded arms were released by two strong men and pushed forward. Blindly, he stumbled and fell on his face onto the warm bed of autumn leaves, the wafting smell of decomposing leaves brought a strange sense of serenity and comfort to him, lest he knows that he was not amongst an array of torture equipment in some cold, dank dungeon. He tried pushing his pride and body up only to be tormented by his abductors. With a jerk, the halfling's hair was pulled through the black, blinding hood and hurled to aside. He landed sitting with a strong thud against his back.

A sword approaches.

The killing aura closed upon him and jolted upon the chilling touch of sharp steel on his neck. His breath quickened and became heavier, his mind giddy from the panic, fear and the lack of air behind the thick sack. Heat and sweat began to accumulate that amount to an induced, uncomfortable level of humidity as the broad heavy steel toyed carefully up, down and around his neck with occasional pressure that sent him gasping.

Summoning his courage and wits, he barked, "Wh…what do you want?"

The steel stopped below his chin and with one swift motion the metal swing upwards, splitting his hood in two, leaving him gasping for cool air to nullify the trapped stench of heat, sweat and bad breath.

Everything around him swirled in a blur in the sudden blend of piercing sunlight and colors, his vision formed illusionary patterns and was disorientated with his surroundings, although almost immediately, he could easily recognize his intimidating abductors with their identical outfits. He was aghast at the sight of a massive double-sword, held on to by a toned athletic woman dressed in slick, firm stretchable material of black and blood red, face hidden behind a pair of round goggles and form-fitting mask made of cloth, tightly covering every inch of her head. She barely showed any skin save for her arms.

He was wheezing in temporary comfort before he was again covered in another hood, suffocating and frightening the prisoner.

"No! No!" he fought, "What do you want from me!"

"You know why you're here," a dark, terrifying voice of a male's spoke, "Quentin…"

"Please…" he gasped, "I know nothing….!"

He felt a hand jerked his hair with a stinging wrath and a face came up close to his. "We can dally as you long as you fancy Quentin, until you give us what we want."

Quentin was torn in his panicky state, mumbling to himself.

"A trader with a ship, crew and wealth, a mansion located about a league from here, a pretty mistress and companion…" the abductor's voice lowered to a dreadful whisper. "Veldyia has paid you well, haven't we?"

"Please, I know nothing…" he cried softly.

Quentin, was lifted high up with fury and hurled face down to the ground. His head held still by a large hand firmly, burying his head to the soil to terrify further the small creature. Another abductor's knee pinned the halfling's left leg firmly before he grabbed his left bounded hand.

"This is going to hurt, Quentin…"

Three large, sharp needles were placed under the tip of the halfling's tiny fingernails and pushed through the nail bed.

"YAAAARGHHHHH!" Quentin yelled in agony while his torturer continued pushing the needle leisurely until it reaches midway, he retracted the bloody needles and insert them in again in a single stroke into the stiffening, trembling palm.

"YAAAARGHHHHH!" the yells died down abruptly and the halfling gradually passed out from the pain and lack of air.

"Wake him up," another abductor ordered the halfling's torturer. "We cannot afford to lose anymore time."

* * *

The Night Agent platoon of three were leaping from wide branches to another with their incredible finesse and skillful acrobatic grace, their corded hip muscles flexed easily when their legs sent their agile body slicing through the air. Using their extremely well balanced body and coordination, they place their strength and distributed their weights with pinpoint accuracy to land upon the nearest branch, with a destination well in mind, the landed foot immediately catapulted the body further to the another branch, continually building a forward momentum with their sharp, focused mind.

The three pursuers were widely spread in searching for the next clue to their hidden target, hoping their crafty prey would make a mistake in their flight.

Unmistakably, the lead pursuer thought, that the previous clues has correctly lead them directly towards right direction. But he was getting a little frantic from the overnight search, he wanted to resign for more reinforcement but was protested by his overly eager subordinate, claiming the resignation would give their enemies a window of opportunity to act upon. Though he accepted the young Agent's logic, many other factors are playing in to suggest that the situation was no longer a simple game of hide and seek.

He glanced briefly towards the city, northeast from their current position, and knew that they were straying out of their patrol boundaries.

He leapt smoothly to another branch with ease.

Two days ago, Nilis, the green and overly eager Agent received a credible tip-off from the dock master, while he was off-duty, claiming there were irregularities and suspicions of a certain inward bound ship that eventually led to the capture of the first lead - Quentin the halfling. It was required by protocol that certain patterns of irregularities be flagged and investigated, true enough, the size and scale of the conspiracy were perceived to be so immense, the Highest five was engaged to look into that matter.

The same night, when a task force was assembled to capture Quentin on his mainland-bound ship, the platoon was sent to the Green A'ras forest for an extensive patrol, when they uncovered the remnants of a small, well-hidden deserted camp site that was less than a day old.

Now the trail is leading them out of the boundaries, and he was not within the range of an allocated listening post to signal for reinforcements. He would have to turn back and risk losing their prey's trail, giving them an advantage to whatever they pursue.

But he felt he was being hunted instead.

The trail was too well-placed and organized, as if someone is playing the lead pursuer into their game. Such easy, identifiable trail should have leaded even the greenest Agent to their targets hours ago. He was dealing with experts.

He regrettably admitted a grievous mistake.

He stopped short mid-air and held out his hands, reaching for the next branch. It was a maneuver to control their highly energize acrobatic tree-striding to a stop. He managed to grab the thick branch and used his falling momentum to swing himself around the branch, curled his body into a ball, released his grasp and planted both feet onto the branch, crouching while balled his hands into a fist to halt his teammates' movements. The trail onwards was leading them further down a dangerously steep slope which was another obvious disadvantageous course to their pursuit. It was a good opportunity to tip the scale to Leo's favor.

"Is something wrong, Leo?" the third agent whispered as loudly as he dared.

Silently, he recollected his thoughts and processed the whole event. He dare not dismiss the fact that either Nilis or Elwick is playing the role of an informant in this deadly game, he even shudders at the possibility of being betrayed by the both of them.

"The trail is leading downwards, any thoughts?" He tested and spied his two teammates through his black opaque goggles, Nilis on his far left and Elwick closer to his right. He barely knew both of them as it was routine that Agents be shuffled throughout the ranks to minimize the possibility of uniting conspiring, rebellious members. He knew the game all too well.

Barely looking at Nilis, Elwick, without hesitation, said, "I think we are straying too far from our course, although that it's a good possibility that the enemy hiding somewhere down there, they would not dare venture further to the Diamond Coast." Leo silently judged his tone.

"Then, they are cornered! We must press on!" Nilis whispered too, as loudly as he dared. Immediately, Leo detected the desperate tone edging from his tone, hardly the pulsation of excitement, as if he was nervously waiting for a plan to unfold. His suspicion deepens, although he had yet a way to prove it. Either way, it was a game too difficult to win, he knew laying somewhere were several deadly enemies ready to spring at a moment's notice, and he was too deep beyond friendly territories to retreat from a fight, and all the worse, someone in his group was conspiring with an unseen enemy.

To venture forward means a certain death, and to go back would risk losing track of enemy, he summarized. "We turn back," he said curtly and received an agreeable nod from Elwick. He safely concluded that Elwick was on his side and relaxed a little. There was little that green Agent could do against two seasoned veterans.

"But sir! The enemy lies just ahead" Nilis cried out, only to receive a cold, reprimanding stare. Leo shifted uncomfortably at the thought of treason, and secretly hoped he could slay Nilis where he stood to relief his mounting anxiety. He shrugged his morbid desire and decided to do something about him as soon as he was within friendlier grounds.

"We've lingered longer than we should, we leave now…" Leo said with a tense, intimidating posture before he knelt, and charged his legs to propel himself onto another branch towards the direction of Vetropol. Tensing his muscles, his legs pushed himself into the air and he was almost gliding, feeling the resisting wind gracing his bare arm. Retreating was wisest course of action, he comforted himself, although the game was already way out of his hands.

He then heard a rapid, whistling sound from a direction he expected least. The speedy resonance of the air immediately hinted a throwing knife.

Ever anticipating attacks, he twisted his body in a clockwise motion to evade the airborne knife, but it was too late. The sharp, jagged blade pierced his left arm and lodged deep into his flesh and tendons, he lost his control and started falling before realizing the painful deception and error – the treacherous Elwick, with arms jutting out in a knife-throwing stance, and Leo read his lips from the movements of his knitted mask all too well….

"Perfect…" Elwick whispered in satisfaction.


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's notes: WARNING! Implied homosexuality below, if you are likely to be offended with SM-homosexuality flair, the author suggests that you try enjoying it anyway. The author is considering to change ratings, as it might get a little more graphic in the following few chapters.**

**Anyway, this chapter dwells deeper into the characters, sorry for the long update. Assignments taxed a measure of my time…Enjoy!**

**Chronicles of the Reaper - Chapter 6**

_It was also sometime during a cool drafty autumn when she last saw the red bird chirping away in delight, while she lie motionless watching the passing of the withering trees on a fresh yellow bed of leaves. She dared not move an inch of her body, as even the slightest twitch would cause a stinging pain. A tear flowed down her chubby cheek hoping her parents would come looking for her as they always had._

_In her young imaginative mind, she would plea the bird that she tried so hard catch, to fly away and call for help. Very much like the intelligent creatures she heard so much about from her mom during their bedtime story. Time and time again she cried out to the bird in apology, but still the bird nonchalantly pecked on seeds far above the branches, as she never exist._

_She tried moving her broken leg once again, but the pain discouraged her otherwise. She began sobbing in fear and chilling cold. When the grey clouds move away, she moved her hands to shadow her eyes from the piercing sunlight and wished they never went away._

_How she wished she had never went away. _

She awoken from her dream and quickly realized that she was still in the bathing tub, the warm water felt absolutely delightful against her fair, supple skin. She rubbed her arms in a slow, gentle motion to feel the soothing liquid slither all over the surface of her body, touching the deepest parts of her feminine sensuality. She moaned in deep satisfaction before submerging herself fully into the water.

She paused a moment under the water and tried recalling her incomplete and ephemeral dream while it still fleets in her mind, it did not feel like a pleasant dream but somehow it seemed significant to her.

She was just a little girl, she remembered.

She emerged from the water and inhaled deeply, refreshed and fully awake, and rubbed her palm all over her body to enjoy the finer things in life. She realized how much she has grown, blossoming into a young maiden with adoringly ample, perky bosoms, a pretty set of oval shaped eyes and a full pouty lips that so many young men yearn to kiss.

She was especially proud of her rich wavy chestnutty curls that flowed down her midriff.

Velayn stepped out from the large, square tub into the steamy wash chamber fitted with intricately designed mosaics plates. She grabbed a towel to wrap around her wet, dripping body and gingerly walked out to her room.

It has only been an hour since she arrived home, the Wilkinsbane manor, and the afternoon sun still hangs behind the wisps of clouds. She stood in front of her bedroom window, admiring her gardens from the second floor of the manor before drawing the curtains to allow some privacy. She unwrapped herself, dried her glistening body and walked around with nothing else on in her indulgently warm bedroom, heated by a dim, burning fireplace at the far end of the room.

Her room was a treasure trove of memories of poetry, toys and wood crafted animal figurines in as gifts of courtship to the young lady. Her alluring womanhood has caught the eyes of many men and there were quite a few who mistook her exciting, outgoing, fervently curious personality with mutual attraction. They were mistaken, and their hearts broken.

Many men had thrown themselves over her feet, some felt cheated and toyed by her ever smiling visage, but in truth, she was merely curious and gracious. She was, too, at times curious as why she could not bring herself to be attracted to men. Maybe it was the overly garish and dramatic confession of the lovelorn, or maybe the customary courtship was too blatant for her inimitable taste. Perhaps she yearned for friendship while the men wanted more, and maybe she regarded men as all alike.

She was going to die as an old spinster, she jested to her worried father.

She slipped in a thinly embroidered linen nightgown that stretched just above her hips and jumped onto her large bed. Sprawling her shapely figure across the silky sheets, she mentally began to pick a suitable cloth for him – the unconscious man.

Lex could not decide.

If Lex were to discard his passive facade, people would know there were things that frighten Lex to the very core of his soul. Working for the hierarchical organization of Cathedral forced him to the directive of a wide multitude of characters and people.

_Forced, _he shook his head, realizing the words he chose to describe his relationships.

There were paths to climb in the hierarchical Order, from page to squire, and to the initiation into the Third Circle, their armor would be basic at most and marked by a purple coat of arms.

The Second Circle came next as recognition of their continued valor, experience and age, and also a leading unit for Paladins of the Third circle, identifiable with more decorated and ornate armor plate mail, marked by a violet coat of arms.

The head is the one and only First Circle Paladin where his armor shines in a hue of gold, heavily ornate with majestic grace, and along with the title, a weapon equally as worthy – the Warhammer of Dawn. The First Circle Paladin, also known as the Commander, ranks equally with the High Priestess and the all five ministers.

From the position of gatemen to guard captains, the functions of a Paladin are many, and for young Lex, albeit the large responsibility of being a guard captain of a minister, Lex's lack of experience and contribution remained him within the Third Circle. There were many other roles Paladins played including the Tactical Paladin Unit, which are trained specifically to counter hostage situations or eliminating crazed powerful wizards, also the Justice unit which is responsible for determining punishments and fines for lawbreakers, and also the Inquisition, which are responsible for uprooting cultist activities.

Lex was rather proud of his own achievements when he was assigned as a guard captain to an affluent family, but time told him otherwise. His job as a guard captain was mundane, repetitive and eventless; he heard nothing of invading beasts or treacherous rebels. Only words like trade, conniving businessmen, family parties, picnic trip and other stories and terminologies that did not excite him. Being apart from the military branch, his low rank and seemingly minute responsibilities slowly and surely drifts him away from the more pressing matters in the kingdom. Even his superior regarded his monthly reports and requests with disinterest and impatience, brushing him off so he could attend to more serious issues.

He stopped trying.

He would have relied on his father if he was not so egoistic, stubborn and independent, but secretly in his heart, he wondered why his father has not intervened. _This isn't my usual self…_snapping himself out of his foolish head, he decided if he were to return to the main order, he would have to perform better; he would rely on no one else.

As of now, opportunity has presented itself, and he knew this issue was serious enough to gain some standing and attention from the higher-ups.

But he could not decide.

This matter was one worthy of the Inquisition, and the Inquisition was under the directive of an eccentric, ghastly being - an elf with a pale and whitewashed complexion, skin as scarred as bark of a tree, and its surface as scaly as of a fish. Inquisitor Thriril constantly bears a fanged, depraved smile with his large, leering eyes of malcontent. His hair as white and pale as it is wiry, tied to a neatly groomed ponytail…

…_He stood in darkness before a pitiful stream of light, revealing only an unnatural and dark vigor that swirled around the edges his deep purpled ceremonial skirt, a wide gap parted from the middle of his waist flaunting the intricate designs of his extravagant buckle. He brushed a thin layer of gathering dust off the shoulder of his short vest, weaved with thin strips of purple leather, seamed and ornamented with black fabric to perfection_._ He traced his fragile, bony fingers along the wide brim of his cavalier hat, and carved a demonic smile in sheer excitement. _

_Bleary eyed, the elf's hidden visage swims in his adjusting vision within the dark and hollow prison-like chamber. Lex, with a jerk, found his limbs were strapped in chains and his weakened body stretched all across the cold wall. Dim torches burned in unison to boil the damp atmosphere into austere humidity that sent sweat trickling down his temple and rippling muscles. _

"_It was beautiful, wasn't it?" The Inquisitor had an unsuspecting harmonic, raspy voice that echoed softly off the walls and into the back his head, cocooning his waning consciousness like a hypnotic spell. He walked into the light but his lowly dipped hat still revealed none of his broken face._

_There was a terrifying surreal and unholy aura radiating from the Inquisitor's frail body, an alien terror that felt like a nightmare, yet he can feel genuine fear throbbing from his veins. With every rising step, the Inquisitor's boots seemed to swell in weight that resonated even heavier thuds, mentally prodding Lex to back nowhere into a dead wall, shying and shrinking away as someone were trying to peel the skin off him._

"_Do you know why you're here?" The Inquisitor asked cynically, still maintaining his wide smile, bearing his abnormally long fangs. He stopped two feet before his adoringly bounded jailbird that wore nothing but long, ragged pants; he raised his balled fist upwards, and released his fingers and a spell to blind the confused prisoner._

_Biting his lips to control his fear, he tried to remain steadfast and unnerved, his eyelids opened and stretched wide in futile attempt to regain his vision, and pray that it is all a terrible nightmare. _

"_Fearless…" he licked his dried, cracked lips. "…and such beautiful physique. The Cathedral has chosen well." _

_He stepped forward and wrapped his heavy clawed gauntlet around Lex's neck, pulling him closer as he was consoling a child. His bare body trembled and pulled away slightly at the pressing against the inquisitor's cold, icy chain mail, shuddering too, uncomfortably at the itch upon his neck, inflicted by the elf's playful, irregular breathing. _

"_Such beautiful physique…" he whispered again in lustful admiration, licking the sweat off Lex's muscular neck. "…such cold, relentless emotions." He traced his dark golden claws down Lex's developed chest, the edge nibbling onto his firm, tanned skin, and the other bare hand stoking gently on the left side of Lex's sweaty chest, his blindness evoked a confusing and heightened sensation of pain and pleasure. _

_A sickly sweet odor that snaked into Lex's nose paused his futile struggle. _

"_Obedient and submissive!" the Inquisitor shrieked excitedly, boring his wide maddened eyes deep into Lex's comparatively calm soul._

_The Inquisitor's bark like skin moved to caress affectionately against Lex's burning cheeks, rousing an erotic, debauched pleasure from the mental torture. The elf started to glee in joy as he started to nibble on Lex's ears. "You enjoy it…don't' you?" Flashes of grotesque image ran through Lex's head, of dislocated muzzles and broken heads. Blood and flesh stuck onto his mace while a squire yelled in agony, while holding his torn legs together. _

"_Arm and mace blindly guided by written law and conditioned conscience," the elf ravaged mercilessly his victim's stoic pride, brushing his lips and tongue against Lex's skin. "How did your conscience react when your mace robbed starving cubs from their rotting mothers?" Lex saw a pack of vultures sat and waited as the life of a bony cub writhed away, its tongue lolled out in dehydration. "Do you stand by and watch your friends devoured by beasts?" Lex saw wolves tore chunks of meat from a young squire's thigh, blood and veins dripped and dangled from their jaws. His heart reacted with revulsion, but his mind justified no reasons. He felt indifferent with deep discomfort. _

_For what it seemed to be an eternity, he was transported back to the forest. He stood idly while the wafting stench of blood drowned his senses and lumpy flesh soiled his foot and cloth. _

_Lex's mind turned and twisted in contemplation of the Inquisitor's questionings, a squire did lose a leg in that ambush, but he saw no wrong in his action. "I've…I've done no wrong…" his trembling voice defended._

"_Then what drives you, son of Remington? How do steer through your decisions? By your moral compass? Compassion? The words, eyes and judgments of others?" The Inquisitor held up his chin. "On whose life do you choose to dispense mercy?"_

_The grin on the Inquisitor's widened as uncertainty loomed his captive's striking features. _

"…_your love for others?" he smiled knowingly and pursed his lips sympathetically, releasing his hold on the man who recognized his baseless intent. _

"_You're unsure, young little thing…" he continued. "Yet you kill without hesitation."_

"_What drives you, Lex Remington?" the prisoner resigned before his vision slowly returned, eyes staring down onto the floor. The words rang painfully in his head, knowing that his purpose is lost…_

_Or has not been found…_

"_Remember, remember…" the Inquisitor pressed a single claw between his chest, directly beneath his throat. His hat still masked his face. _

_He started driving the claw deep into his skin, asserting a gentle yet precise force. Grimacing in pain, Lex finally yelled out in agony as the crazed elf surgically cut his flesh down in a vertical straight line. "Remember, remember." He continued slowly without haste, enjoying the orchestrated shrilling scream._

"_Remember, remember," He stopped cutting just above the navel and pushed the claw deeper in further torment._

"_Remember…" _

"Sir Lex, is something amiss?" Halifaz call snapped Lex out from his haunting memory.

Lex shut his eyes for a moment and looked around, he was riding his horse en route to the Cathedral. Behind was Halifaz driving the carriage, carrying the unconscious man. The street was bustling as usual with people drove their carriages, painting their buildings, tending their tiny gardens and returning from markets.

The dream felt incredibly real.

How could it not? The scar from the torture still marked his body, he occasionally feel it through by brushing on the surface of his plate mail. Every time he feels it, he remembered.

_Remember, remember. _What was he supposed to remember? What was the Inquisitor's intent?

His head started to throb harder as he knew he had learned nothing, and the price of that scar and torture weighed him down still. After his collapse in that painful episode, immediately the next morning, he received a writ commanding his presence at the Virtuous Hall to be initiated into the Third-Circle.

No one told him about the Inquisitor, and he asked no one.

_On whose life do you choose to dispense mercy?_

He looked towards the carriage, beyond the quizzical glance if Halifaz and into the unconscious man, calling to him like a hint.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chronicles of the Reaper - Chapter 7**

Pressure mounted on both sides of the interrogation as the Night Agents watched Quentin gradually regained his consciousness. To the awakening halfling, he had hoped that all that passed was just a horrible nightmare. From the moment he was abducted in darkness, on board of his mainland bound merchant ship, to the tortures of these relentless creatures.

The Night Agents are royally commissioned assassins, spies and informants to the Kingdom of Veldyia, and they exist only in whispers and rumors to their allies and enemies alike as their under armed tactics leave the peace-loving Velydians much to be desired. Whatever foul rumors about tortures, abduction, secret executions, that spread through Veldyia are probably true. Their sinisterly dark activities pricks like the ugly thorns in the guise of a rose, secretly striking terror across the lands even to their unsuspecting allies, as their motives, intents, and operations come unannounced and unknown.

Like all twisted games of espionage, all identities of Night Agents are well guarded and almost known not to exist; faces are masked in hoods, goggles, and cloths that allowed no compromise in security of information. Families, marriage and lovers are almost the unwritten taboo for every member; the rules of the agency are harsh towards its members, and even harsher upon its enemies. For that, the organization has proved successful in years of its silent pursuit to foil countless attacks and invasions.

The recent turn of events however, troubled the intuitions of the Night Agent's Sovereign, the top of the Agency's hierarchical chain of command, the finest and most cunning of all agents – Cain. He struck a menacing stance, with arms crossed over his leather bounded chest, outfitted to function as agile as his reflexes. The unfold collar towered up high to shield his neck and jaw line, masked behind a dark cowl that cast his face in darkness, his empty visage would lead anyone to believe him as a shadow incarnate.

Quentin, a stripped down resilient halfling, roused bleary-eyed and giddy, vomited a pool of yellow and green onto the ground. His arms started to sore for being held up above the ground by chains. He tiredly sways himself back and fourth to no avail.

"Quentin," the sturdy interrogator started, "Who are you working for?" He motioned his large, strongly built comrade to splash cold water on him.

"I…work…for myself…" Quentin roused completely as he defended. He teeth chatters at the shivering cold.

A slash of whip came down on his pale skin, instantly opened a wound across his chest, accompanied with a shriek of agony.

"The torture won't stop, Quentin. Talk!" Another cold, heartless slash came down on the crying halfling, wailing in pain, humiliation and tears.

"What…what do you want!" Quentin pleaded innocence to stall any attacks.

"You came to this island two years ago as a merchant, traded on cloths for jewels, is that true?" his torturer asked rhetorically which was replied with a nod. "That…that's what I do…"

"Half a year later, you purchased a mansion off the Emerald port in the forest and traded as you were." He growled, as if his crimes are soon to be revealed. "Last winter, your visit to Veldyia became frequent and almost routine."

"The demands for Veldyia Jewels were profitable…" Quentin wheezed at his opening gash, when another sharp stroke of leather came down hard on him, opening a third wound. "Liar!" the interrogator yelled. "the Port Master's ship manifest list revealed little to no goods worthy of transactions since late winter…!

Yet you spent lavishly on luxuries throughout summer and spring!" The interrogator came close to him with dagger at hand, jabbed once at his open wound, twisting the halfling's shallow injury. "You spent no more than 2 days on every trip; you bought a bigger ship, extended your mansion and kept a mistress for pleasure." He snarled viciously behind his mask. "Who's paying you, Quentin? What is your purpose here in Veldyia? What was written in that letter you carried in your inner breast pocket?"

Shocked at how much they know and realizing the fact that he has been cornered, he groveled for mercy, "Please…I know nothing, I'm merely a messenger…"

"Liar!" the interrogator pressed his blade deeper in his flesh. "Why was your mansion extended? Like a fortress with traps and barred doors! What are you hiding?"

"I…I…" he trembled at the thought of being a betrayer, but the pain was already too much to bear and there was no point in extending this any further. "To house the halfling girl!" he exclaimed in despair.

"Who is this halfling girl? Talk!" the torturer pressed on.

"I was never part of any plan, I was merely the messenger that brought the encoded message to the mainland." He began talking in speed. "She was never…" he carefully chose his words. "…she was never really my mistress; she is the liaison to my real employers that I've never met."

The torturer contemplates at the new information before asking the next, "What was your mission on the mainland?"

"I…I…" he was frightened as he was afraid they might catch him lying for claiming to such a minute task. "I merely serve as a messenger as I have here…" Expecting another attack, which came just as true. "Argg! I swear I'm telling the truth!"

Pausing, the torturer walked and spoke to Cain. He returned and said, "Tell me more about this halfling girl, what of her significance? When have you both met?"

"Shortly before winter, I was…'approached'," Quentin emphasized the word. "…by a halfling girl who seek my companionship. She claimed to have come here and start her life anew." He swallowed. "She requested to purchase the property under my name and be my benefactor."

"What else? What did she tell you about your missions? Where is she getting all her money?" the Agent asked.

"She…she began preaching about the repression and cruelty of the elites of Veldyia…about a great change..." he shook his head in confusion, "..and the selfishness and arrogance of the kingdom." He seemed lost in words. "I…I can't…I don't recall the bulk of philosophies she advocated, but…" suddenly his eyes flared with an unusual faith. "Torture and fear tactics…" he whispered. He suddenly realized the significance and sense of the countless preaching. "The kingdom is naught but a kingdom built in a web of hypocrisy and deceit!" he breathed. "People with innocent philosophies of revolution were taken away and punished! Vile dark, dungeons built as elaborate as the city! A city that houses murderous barons that escapes justice!" His pain no longer took hold of him as he recalled propagandas of hate. "The poor are denied second chances and be cast off into the wilds like animals! Animals! Animals!" he yelled in transition to a completely different person and continued spewing out litanies of curses.

Stepping back, the torturer confirmed their suspicions and spoke. "Quentin François, you are hereby charged on counts of treason, which is punishable by death under the decree of High Lord Veldanen and the Ministry of Defense. Your lands, property and family will be seized by the kingdom. Your kin, spouse and children will be placed under arrest and be further interrogated to ascertain their loyalties…" the torturer's announcement sent Quentin silent in shock. "My spouse…?" he echoed disbelievingly.

"Your family is already here in Veldyia," the Agent claimed as he moved closer to his ears. "…your pregnant wife, Lydia." The torturer whispered wickedly into his ears. The growing courage scribed on Quentin's soul was crushed instantly, not doubting the words of these people. "My child is coming to this world…please, give us all a chance…" he noticed the implications and started weeping bitterly.

Cain shifted his foot a little before walking forward. A glimmer of hope replaced Quentin's misty eyes. "Milord…" he recognized Cain's powerful authority when the other step back in respect.

With hands on Quentin's shoulder, gazing at Quentin through the darkness of his cowl, he said with deep, judgmental tone, "What's left for you, halfling?" Quentin met his gaze morbidly. "When all, you have betrayed…?" His words hit the tormented halfling like an avalanche of rocks.

"Execute him." Cain ordered. Immediately, the agents unbind the agonizing halfling that was crying out for mercy. He wept silently when he was forced to his knees and when a big, burly hand held his head steady. A drow agent unsheathed a formidable katana and aimed at his tiny neck.

With courage, he mustered, "What of my family, milord?" he asked pleadingly while looking towards Cain who is walking away. "Your family will suffer the same fate as those who betrayed the Kingdom," Quentin looked down in hopelessness and tears, almost ready to accept his fate. When he closed his eyes in prayer, the sword came down like lightning, severing the head.

Approaching his second-in-command, the lady agent with a double-blade asked, "Do we execute the spouse?"

"No, she can wait. We will place her in the cell for now." He refuted. "Our top priority is searching for the halfling girl."

"In the mansion?" she confirmed.

"That seems to be our only lead," he nodded. "All five of us will launch an attack as soon as they get rid of the body, request Pione to initiate the high alert protocol, leave no stones unturned."

She quickly leaves to get prepared.

Unflinching at the execution, his mind calmly formulated thousands of possibilities.


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: It gets violent! Well, I can't really seem to deliver the mood I wanted. Any thoughts people? Well, I had fun writing this chapter as it gets darker and more gruesome, and hope you have fun reading it too!**

**Author's Notes 2: Did a little facelift for better flow.**

**Chronicles of the Reaper – Chapter 8**

In the midst of the grey dulling forest, Leo winced in pain, clutched his injured arm as he fell and rolled over a heavy bed of fallen leaves, clearing a pathway and sending the wilting leaves gliding up high into the air. With precise timing, he flexed and planted his feet into the earth, the momentum and anchor worked in unison to swerve his entire body 90 degrees clockwise and pushed his torso upwards into a crawling position, with chest facing down, his right hand and straightened legs clawed the earth, sliding him to a gradual stop.

The yellow leaves swayed down gently with a deadly silence.

His sharp mind recalled the previous location of the enemy and predicted the flight pattern and trajectory of the incoming darts; he did a forward roll and evaded three missiles. Again, he side rolled to his left to cover behind a tree when three more darts harmlessly buried shallow into the hard trunk.

With his back against the trunk, he pried out the dagger and removed a vial of fluid from his pouch, slid it beneath his mask and hastily drank the thick murky liquid. He replaced the vial and felt his wound mending quickly.

Sweating behind his mask, he silently punished himself for being so eluded in this thick and carefully weaved treachery.

_What of Nilis? _His mind was troubled again, was he facing two conspiring enemies? He decided not to take anymore chances and would kill them both when opportunity gives.

_One to my left, and another to the right. _His fingers removed three darts from his holster, carefully studying the terrain to assess his advantage. The left and front was open for a dart strike and his right was open to an unseen Nilis. He had to act fast.

He feigned to bolt forward and heard more darts heading his way. He headed low and evaded once again. He made a sharp left turn and sprinted in that new direction, with Elwick as a target, he charged his legs and leaped into the air as a precautionary evasive move.

Successfully deceiving the traitor, he acted on that window of opportunity to initiate a counterattack; he twisted his body mid-air and launched two darts at Elwick.

Surprised at the sudden turn of tide, Elwick quickly bended backwards to drop from the branch, dodging the incoming darts, he did a somersault mid-air and spun his agile body to gently land on his feet.

The third calculated poisoned dart whistled forth and struck him in the right shoulder forcefully.

Stumbling backwards paralyzed, he saw Leo sprinting towards his position with great speed.

Leo removed a pair of kamas, smaller sized scythes with handles about seven inches long and blades about five inches each, and rushed forward with every intention to drive the sharp blade into the traitor's skull.

But a distant sound caught his ears from the other side of the forest.

_Nilis?_ He hurled a kama with all his strength at Elwick before diving into his upper left direction to the nearest cover. His readied three more darts.

Fortunately for Elwick, the kama's disproportioned construct fell short in its ability to properly function as a missile, the kama rotated furiously while descended from its intended straight path and drove its sharp biting blade deep into his thigh.

Cursing under his breath, Elwick was now within the Leo's blind spot but knew he was still alive by his casting shadow.

The growing complexity of the situation began to gnaw on his shattering advantage and confidence; he grimaced in frustration and calculated moves ahead, predicting the possible outcomes for his decisions. If he would head out to slay Elwick, Nilis might seize the opportunity to ambush him. Or if he chose to attack Nilis, the paralyzing poison will diminish, giving Elwick the opportunity instead.

Time and the lack of information was his enemy, and if he only knew where Nilis' exact position and strategy.

Nilis' imagination began to run wild when he lost sight of his platoon. Consumed in anger and irritation, he bolted ahead without waiting for his peers. Fear and guilt seized froze him in his tracks that sent him shivering a great remorse. Images of their dead bodies flashed through his mind.

* * *

As he recklessly searched for their whereabouts, he grew to hate his naivety and failing attitudes that sent them into this treacherous trap. He knew for certain they were in trouble, as they seldom do get separate.

The deaths of his comrades weigh heavily down upon him.

Leo decided to flee the losing battle shortly after he deal with Nilis. Elwick lays upper left from his position and guessed Nilis to his back. To engage another crafty was risky, especially when they know little of each other's tricks and strategies, for that Leo was rather apprehensive in striking on an offensive.

_Too odd, or too clever, _his heart raced faster upon his doubt.

Decisively, he chose to outrun him and hope his flight could reveal Nilis' position. He made way towards northeast where the Vetropol city lay; his eyes darting at all angles searching for any hostiles or traps. Suddenly, like choking a horse's reins, Nilis' appearance on a branch in a far distance made Leo stop dead in his tracks; his darts were ready to fly. Studying the traitor, it seemed Leo has not been spotted.

_Too bad young one, I found you first, _he grinned grimly at his fortune.

But something did not make sense, if Nilis was conspiring with Elwick, they should have launched a cooperative strike on him. Instead, Nilis almost seemed lost at that point of time, as a child was looking for his missing parents.

_Deception? _He second-guessed and could not dismiss the fact that he maybe trying to feign innocence, or maybe he was too, sucked in by Elwick's unarranged and unsanctioned attack, as a deviation from their original plan to lure him into the steep slopes.

He dared not take any chances, his deadly darts called out to him in excitement.

_Or maybe he is truly innocent_.

He stood still behind the tree and considered painfully.

Finally he lowered his arm in resignation and he concluded Nilis did not pose any threat, nor has his position been compromised; whether or not Nilis is a traitor, the truth and situation was too chaotic to rest any firm trusts or beliefs. He had to abandon Nilis for all the obvious reasons.

He considered again resuming the attack, but his mind yelled retreat. Reluctantly, he picked up his stealthy pace and made for friendlier grounds.

* * *

Nilis' eyes led him to inspect the several darts that was lodged in the bark, he swung down cautiously from the branch and traced the trajectory and easily guessed it originated from a nearby branch. He turned around and saw the obvious point of attack.

He studied the darts and its make and carvings carefully and concluded that it was from the agency,he quivered at the possible horrible possibilities of a struggle between his platoon and some unseen enemies. It all made sense to him why Leo chose retreat. He brushed off all negative thoughts, the crouched low and exerted his stealthiest maneuver to reach the point of attack, in hope to search more clues, or bodies.

With dagger in hand, his head peeked out from a tree trunk to scout further. "Elwick?" he could not believe his eyes as Elwick stood there like a statue, breathing, but motionless.

He sprinted forward in exasperation and relief, but was equally baffled with the strange occurrence. Without thinking further, he immediately removed a vial containing orangey colored liquid; he pulled out the dart and applied some of the mixture to nullify the poison. He too, surgically and carefully removed the bloodied kama and hurled it to the ground.

"Elwick, are you okay? Where's Leo?" he began when Elwick became more animated and fluid, his stiff arms loosened and neck quivered. His frantic eyes simply looked ahead behind his dark goggles.

"Elwick, what happened?" Nilis whispered with nervous anticipation but was further received by a long dreadful silence.

Elwick's hand moved to clutch his injured shoulder, and the other subtly and calmly reached to his back pouch.

Nilis shifted uncomfortably at the stillness of Elwick's emotion, his left foot instinctively stepped back

As Elwick unlatched his belt pouch, Nilis jumped backwards in paranoia and unsheathed his dagger. "What are you doing Elwick? Put your hands where I can see them, slowly!"

Elwick remained calm with a surrendering arm, and the other slowly revealed a vial of healing potion. "Calm down Nilis…" he slid the vial beneath his mask and took a sip.

Relaxing a little but still nervous, he pressed on, "Where's Leo? Have the enemy showed themselves?"

Elwick nodded in careful consideration, Nilis was a dumb kid, but he would not underestimate any Agent's sensitive intuitions and instinct. Suddenly above, he heard a familiar eagle's scream; it was the sign for an escalation of the alert level.

_Perfect, _he smiled to himself.

"Did you hear that?" he asked Nilis.

"The Five has suspicions of a high level threat," Elwick looked above. "…and I think we're staring at one."

"Which is…?" Nilis started sweating as it was his first experience in a high alert situation. He was sure their situation had something to do with the recent incident, but was unsure how.

"I'm not sure," Elwick feigned uncertainty, "I don't understand why Leo spared me…"

Even his disguise could not mask Nilis' shock, "Spared…he… he attacked you?" he stuttered, realizing the implications of the word 'spared'.

"I don't know his motives," Elwick stretched his healed shoulder and thigh, "but we best subdue him before he cause anymore harm, by the High Lord's name." Staring at Nilis, "You're fortunate that he did not find you first."

Nilis gulped at the thought. "He's a traitor?" He still could not comprehend the peculiar situation.

"Let's go, we might yet catch up to him before anything happens." Elwick said calmly. _Perhaps too calm_, Nilis thought.

* * *

Leo sprinted to a nearby dense and low hanging branch, jumped and grabbed it, he used his forward momentum to swing himself upwards. Landing on his feet, he repeated his maneuver to reach a higher branch, pulling himself up and continued his tree striding. 

The next branch shuddered at his more forceful leaps and the next and the next, he did bother to leave any trace as he was sure he was being hunted at that very moment.

He had noticed the escalation alert and wondered how this betrayal would fit into the halfling's incident. Since the traitor, Elwick, is long standing Agent, was he bought off secretly by an external organization? Or was he working as a double agent since the day he was recruited? Was he all along part of this carefully planned attack?

The real enemy must be formidable indeed, and it came to his realization that kingdom is to about to face a terrible war. He had the horrible burden of delivering the message.

Striding for nearly five minutes now, he was sure the border lies about a mile away. He could scarcely believe it, he had a chance.

Suddenly without warning, his stride was suddenly stopped by a powerful, striking force. He can feel the air squeezed out lungs and blood choked up into his throat before the pain started to register precisely across his sleek abdomens and muscles, throwing him back in the opposite direction despite the forward momentum he built along his stride, he would thought he ran into a sturdy branch.

It was a powerful kick indeed.

While he descended for the second time, his vision blurred and saw a protruding leg from a slim elven body, cloaked and hooded in a camouflage of dark grey. With his back facing Leo, the new assailant balanced unflinchingly with a single leg while holding out still his attacking limb. To successfully throw back such powerful force and stood still showed he was facing no ordinary foe.

Leo was cowed.

The air from his lungs were squeezed out again as his hit the earth, the gravity shook his body terribly, especially at his wounds. He felt a broken rib or two. Wheezing, he bit back his pain and jumped back on with his feet, scurrying quickly for cover and drank another vial of healing potion. He peeked out to spot his enemy.

"You played it well, agent." His assailant complimented sternly with grace and eloquence, his sharp muffled voice showed neither evil nor malcontent but with just a hint of anger and impatience.

Leo's fear deepens as his attacker's words implied an elaborate, calculated deception and that of he was just a pawn that has been long sucked into game he knew not of. _How could I've been so blind?_ He winced and punished himself with despair, and he again, could no longer find any reasons to forgive his ignorance. Facing with a possible foe of more than three, he was at the end of game.

But he had not given up, he will take down as many as he could.

Chuckling at the impossible situation, he might as well find out as much information about the new attacker before his death, "So the mind reveals himself."

"Nay," he replied curtly. "The mind is more than a single person, if you must know."

"Do explain," he requested cynically, his darts lingered still in his hands. His eyes began scanning the area; he winded and huffed from the fall.

The elf remained silent for a brief moment, before saying, "This initiative is not moved by a single mind, but by a collective of like-minded people."

"Like-minded people?" he asked again without any real interest.

"Aye," he replied, "but I trust the answer is the least of your current concern, Agent." He intimidated.

"Maybe not," Leo replied bravely before he lurched out sideways and launched his missiles towards his target. He continued running for a short distance in a horizontal direction, before he turned to run at him head on, hoping at succeeding again in his previous maneuver.

Now facing fully to the front, the attacker swerved his body and swiped his right palm at the incoming missiles, catching all of them between his fingers before he lowered his arms casually. The semi-masked assailant's deep set of fierce eyes stared unflinchingly at Leo.

Staring disbelievingly, he launched another missile in closer range to hopefully bring him down from the branch, taking away his height advantage. He continued running towards the spot below his target, he had several more tricks hidden in his sleeve.

But with a single smooth motion, the attacker side-stepped effortlessly to avoid the missile, did a back flip with a hand on the branch, and catapulted his light body down the branch in attempt to jump off the trunk. Releasing his grasp, both legs planted firmly on the bark before he leaped his body off strongly into a high torque flight. Condensing massive concentration and incredible skills, he twisted his entire body into deadly 360 spin, he timed the distance and power to connect the back of his heels into Leo's left face.

Leo did not see that coming, and he was hurled to aside.

The impact was so strong he could feel his jaw dislocated almost instantly, and several of his teeth were knocked of his gums. His cheekbones too, became fragmented and crumpled across his skull.

The attacker, instead, spun to a gentle landing, while slowly rising from his crouching position, casting his undaunted eyes over the fallen Agent. He studied the darts before hurling them aside.

Leo could not even scream at his own pain as he tried to get back on his feet. He attempted moved his head, but the body reacted violently from the grinding pain. Tears began to well in his eyes as the constant pain was connected to almost every movement of his body. His jaws dislocated, his face permanently disfigured and numbed. Fear of helplessness took over him.

Such effortless defeat shook him further.

Blood and drool leaked beneath his mask, his tongue was feeling the taste of his own blood and he could feel fragments of bones lodged deep in the roof of his mouth, he felt his jaw has been ripped of his head and a ball of weight dangle from his head. He was helpless, and he could only pathetically claw the earth to inch away from his enemy.

Gawking and wheezing heavy breath, his pitiful face scrapped the earth with every desire to move away. He clawed away.

He clawed.

He clawed.

Before the next enemy stood before him.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the cynical man sneered. "A Night Agent crawls?" he moved his left foot to press hard on his slacken face. Only muffled air could be heard from the shaking agent, his body jerked and stiffened in a painful reaction to the sadistic torture, cracking several of the already cracked bones. Leo's arm flailed helplessly to get rid of his torturer. "Eh?" the third enemy mocked, "Yer would ave' to speak louder!" he squashed harder with the heel of his boot.

The elf just watched on without any change in expression.

"Let me just ave' a look at yer pathetic face!" he moved to violently jerk the Agent's mask but the strong material would not give, he shook and caused further torment to the already broken man.

"Justias, do not ruin our disguise." The elf commanded stoically.

Finally, with a stroke, the knitted material was removed to reveal the Agent's crushed face.

"Ghah…ghah…ghah…" he called out in pain.

"Tsk! Yer would ave' been a charming lil' devil if yer' face didn't look like a sack o' crock!" He crouched beside him and mocked further.

His mouth was gaped wide open, revealed a line of broken tooth, his cheek bruised and swollen from the disfigurement, his cheeks watered in tears of agony, and shame. He eyes were dilated and pale as he had lost his soul.

While Justias continued pressing his feet against the poor agent, the elf's keen ears caught a clamor from a distance. "Silence Justias…" he commanded.

"Might be Elwick," Justias sneered under his breath. He too, wore a dark grey mask that covered his mouth, revealing his long crooked nose and flaming red hair. He moved to his weapon, a kama-gusari, that was buckled on his belt. A kama-gusari is a whip-like device, made of metal chains fitted with a kama as a head, the other end, however, was a horrible and sadistic spike, used to what end, nobody knew.

Shifting a foot he quickly darted to cover and commanded Justias to do the same. They instantly vanished into hiding, while waiting to ascertain the incoming threat.

* * *

Nilis had a hard time following Elwick's lead as more seasoned agent increased his speed and tenacity. After traveling for some distance, Elwick hand motioned Nilis to stop. Exercised the stopping maneuver, they positioned themselves on a vantage point discreetly from Leo's position. "I think I see something upfront," Elwick whispered to Nilis.

Nilis squinted harder to tell the human-like object, shock overcame Nilis' voice as he recognized that it was Leo, his body twitched in agony. "By the Lord, Leo…" he looked towards Elwick. "What's going on Elwick!" He started to get even more confused, his make was removed and nowhere the vicinity.

Elwick could only shake his head.

"We…we've got to help him…" Nilis received a nod from Elwick. "I'll cover you," Elwick placed his hand over Nilis' shoulder in assurance.

Nilis immediately jumped down and dashed forward to the comrade he somehow felt responsible for, a torrent of guilt washed over him. He should not have let his emotions took control of him.

_But he is a traitor._

But Leo's condition could not possibly make him a traitor, as Elwick perceived him to be. They was something else, or someone that did a thing like this to him.

_He must have his reasons._

"Leo…by the Lord, what happened?" he turned his body over so his lay on his back. It took a moment for Leo's dazing eyes to recognize Nilis, his eyes immediately expanded and flailed his arms to chase him away, his tired pained gaze overcame with anger and fear, tears flowing freely down his broken face.

"Ghah! Ghah!" he cried out while his legs pushed his own body further away, as if he were facing a terrible demon.

"I'm trying to help Leo!" Nilis watched with a sinking heart, the once powerful Leo was reduced to this. "What's going on Leo?" he asked with soft sob.

Out of nowhere, a constant rattle of moving chain caught both Agents' attention. To Nilis' alarm, he can feel a cold iron rapidly encircling his arms, and a sharp blade bit deep into his biceps. With a jerk, Justias pulled his weapon to tighten his chain's grip and bite into his victim, prompting Nilis to yell out in excruciating pain.

Leo's fear instantly altered to a startling conundrum, his head raced with illogical answers that soon turned to a dark, powerful emotional regret. _Was…was I mistaken all along? _Then he remembered the movement of Elwick's mouth the first time he was struck.

_Perfect._

He reached out his hand towards a screaming Nilis, his muscles and tendons were slowly ripped apart by Justias. Elwick calmly approached the subdued young agent. His blank and unreadable expression hidden behind his mask, shielding all motives and emotions.

**Please leave a review, Good or Bad, Rants or Compliments! I don't really mind, but I almost down on my knees…Thanks!**


	10. Chapter 9

**Chronicles of the Reaper – Chapter 9**

She politely declined any baggage assistance from the Paladins stationed within the bustling city, traveling slowly towards her destination with a large leather suitcase slinging over her shoulders.

Smiling inwardly, she realized it was quite difficult standing out from the crowd.

The self-conscious society was altogether well-groomed and regal, prancing along the streets in high-fashion. Ladies and adolescence alike were proudly dressed to flaunt their voluptuous curves, powdering their faces to mask imperfections. Men and boys dressed as formally and crisp at best, even the children were not spared from the dolling up frenzy.

The streets were flooded with people of a multitude variance of colors and style that struck Angel with fancy and intrigue, it was a rather pleasant experience in comparison to the larger but starkly dull and colorless cultures of Amn, Neverwinter, Luskan or Calimshan, where only harlots and several handful of eccentric characters had the nerve to dress and parade themselves as alarmingly provocative.

The weathered brick road spanned about 20 feet wide with two designated lanes for carriages and another lane for pedestrians, and the sun still hung high for people to continue their routine and work and sightseeing. Neatly groomed, wealthy travelers sat patiently on tiny stools, commissioning artists' to immortalize their existence through canvases in the rich backdrop.

Many others enjoyed the local fine wine, further enhancing prolific pleasures of the urban utopia. Ladies sheepishly haggled over the overpriced jewels and fineries, and children mulled about the bumbling, basking bards and jesters. The more adventurous climbed enthusiastically up the circling hill – Vetropol Peak to pay homage to the magnificent Cathedral.

The falling pink blossoms and dancing midday's light illuminated the ever moving crowd, throbbing Angel's seasoned heart in the midst of the rich atmosphere, enjoying the sensation of being totally lost in the sea of people, free of worry and anxiety.

As she slowed down to savor and appreciate the passing moment, her head filled with melodies of sorrow…duly reminding herself of her assignment. She hummed a tune to herself, trying to capture her fleeting emotions… the painful irony when the blood of Ozmattix Wilkinsbane would be spilled in on the grounds of such an elegant city – when she would assassinate the Trade Minister, when a beautiful memory would be tainted with evil.

She lost her smile and replaced her cowl and continued forward, senses emerging deeply in this strangely melodic moment.

She continued on the main road that went around the base of Vetropol Peak where she was told it will lead her directly to her destination.

_Across the river, _she recalled as she came across a large archway that marked the beginning point of ascension to the very top. The path circled around the towering hill, the gentle climb certainly looked pleasant with trees and memorials planted by the edge along the scaling route, and the path were filled with tourist that simply stood around, enjoying the finer sentiments of Veldyian history.

Without looking ahead, she suddenly felt her shoulders brushing against a coat of fur. The musty smell repelled her slightly as she stepped aside. Looking up to protest, her eyes were caught directly in the sunlight, where the image of a dark towering rider before her, unmoving and still.

"Are you okay, miss?" the voice called out to her dutifully. "It seems you have strayed out to the carriage lane."

"I'm fine…" she brushed her silky amber cloak slightly embarrassed, muttering silently under her breath.

"Might you be looking for something?" the man asked with a flat tone.

"I'm fine, thank you." She stepped aside willingly.

"Do you need to be directed somewhere?" he asked. "That's the least I could do as an apology."

She raised an eyebrow at the mechanical politeness, he somehow sounded quite different from other City Guards, his voice devoid of any ulterior motives. "I'll be fine…" She moved to the side a little more to give way to the entourage. She looked up again and studied the detached, unsmiling battle-ready paladin that rode with a straight perfect posture, slightly soiled up to his greaves, but thought he fitted well into that armor well. His young, strong and sharp feature radiated authority and strength.

She suddenly smiled softly to herself.

"My apologies again, miss," he nod curtly and rode away.

"Pardon me kind Paladin," she called out to Lex and was responded in kind. She kept her smile and lowered her cowl, "Maybe I've changed my mind, could I ask instead for your name?"

"Certainly," Lex nodded, "Sir Lex Remington."

"It's been a pleasure Sir Remington," she bowed and smiled slightly, "Thank you for your courtesy, I'll be well on my way."

"The pleasure is mine," Lex returned her bow and turned away stoically, continuing his journey.

_Hmm…_ Angel mused.

* * *

Lex's nerve throbbed, unearthed as his horse lingered at the black gates of the Inquisitorial edifice, terrifyingly sinister and grotesque amidst the mystically enchanted city. Cruel jagged buttresses tore from the stony pavilions, reaching out to the sky like an intense warning against its foes… 

The dark side of Veldyia…

Lex took a deep breath as he moved past the barren courtyard of sands and cobblestone, devoid of greens or flowers to greet the band.

He ordered Halifaz to park the carriage the side, intending to allow the Inquisitorial staff's assistance to carry the sleeping man.

"Good afternoon, Sir Lex," a Second Circle Paladin strode up to the young captain. "May I ask what business do you have with the Inquisition?"

"Good afternoon, Sir Dewall," Lex replied, "I'm here to seek council from the Inquisitors, and to report an unusual sighting."

"Oh, indeed," Sir Dewall raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed, and there's this man I found…" Sir Lex proceeded to explain his encounter in the forest.

"How curious," Sir Dewall glanced to where the sleeping man lies, "Then it's best you make haste, I would have the Inquisition check for any abnormalities."

"Very well," Sir Lex bowed, prompting Sir Dewall to do the same, turning and whispering to his aide, "Oh…and there's another thing Sir Dewall," Sir Lex called out with a slight frown.

"Lord Wilkinsbane has made an unusual request," Sir Lex paused for a moment, "He asks should the man be free from any taint, he would be returned the care of the Wilkinsbane's family."

"Hmm…" Sir Dewall understood immediately the frown, "That, unfortunately, would be for the Inquisitors to decide."

"Agreed," Sir Lex nodded.

"My good graces, Sir Lex," Sir Dewall bowed and parted.

* * *

As the staff organized the sleeping man's care, Sir Lex hesitantly picked up his feet and walked towards the Chapel. 

The damp, imposing halls blasts with the hollow, guttural melody from a massive instrument. A heavily draped, skeletal being sat before the organ, his hands swept through the organ and played strings after strings of maddening tunes, immersing himself in an electric torrent of euphoria.

Lex began to dizzy as a familiar scent snaked up to him. Surreally reminding him of the damp, evil dungeon. The pain and the humiliation inflicted on him resurfaced in his belly.

He clutched his inerasable wound.

As the melody reached to a climatic end, it abruptly stopped… the tune still rang, echoing in the vilifying chapel.

"Welcome!" the Inquisitor drew a deep breath, his voice boomed out of his frail frame, smoldering what was left of Lex's courage.

"Welcome…" Inquisitorial Thirhil stood and extended his arms outwards, and turned to greet Lex.

"It has been too long since I'm graced with your presence…" His boots pounded on dark marble, louder as he reached closer to the paladin…a terrible, carnal chagrin etched on his barky skin, "…young one…" he licked his lips.

"Too long since I was left with memories of out sweet encounter," he walked right up to the Paladin, where Lex reactively took a step back.

"Aww…" the Inquisitor teased, "Haven't you missed me?"

Lex could not find the words.

"Do you find my presence appalling?" the Inquisitor kept his grin.

Lex remained silent.

"HAAHAHA!" The Inquisitor burst into laughter, "What an adorable addition to the guard, your father has raised you well…"

"Too well…perhaps…" the grotesque creature turned to his left, towards a tray where bottles and jars of liquor lay. "Fancy a drink? No? Just as I expect, your father brought you up too well…" He poured brandy into an expensive glass and took a small sip, enjoying the strong, smooth taste.

"Lord Inquisitor," Lex coughed out, "I bring news of an unusual…"

"Tell me, Sir Lex," the Inquisitor ignored his report, interrupting as he looked into Sir Lex's eyes, "Does it trouble you?"

"Milord, that is why I…"

"Apparently, you did not hear me well, paladin," Inquisitor Thirhil smiled still, "Does it trouble you?"

Sir Lex's palms began to sweat.

"The day is darker than usual, and people seem more distant….and unfamiliar. For every moment of peace, comes the day the usual course falls apart." The Inquisitor said, "Are you troubled, Sir Lex?"

"Y…yes…" Sir Lex felt he could no longer hide his confusion, he could feel the Inquisitor probing his mind, reading his every thought.

"A stranger comes…I know," the Inquisitor turned away and walked towards the window, "And you crave for an answer, to fulfill your holy duties…"

"Lord Inquisitor…"

"Tell me, Sir Lex…" he took another sip, "Have you been thinking of the question I've asked of you?"

Sir Lex was immediately brought back to the dungeon - _On whose lives do you choose to dispense mercy? _

"When the day comes, young one… can you decide? Knowing when the fate of all hangs by your decision?" the Inquisitor held up a vial, shaking it to draw Lex's attention. "Think about it…"

"Nevertheless," he raised an eyebrow, "Know that the boy is far from being a threat, Sir Lex."

_Ho…how does he know?_ Sir Lex became increasing perplexed; he had not even lay eyes on the man yet.

"Curious as you are, Sir Lex, there are things that are beyond your comprehension…" The Inquisitor chuckled.

A distinct eagle scream wailed across the sky.

"Events are moving, if you recognize that sound," he glanced toward the young paladin, tossing the vial towards Sir Lex. "Inform Sir Dewall that I've granted you the permission to do as you see fit.

Feed the boy the fluid when you have him in comfort." The Inquisitor waved Sir Lex away, "…and as much as I'd like to indulge you further… realize that we are on an alert.

Return to the Wilkinsbane Manor," he turned away, "They would need you."


End file.
